


Unrelated Random Bits of Fluff

by Mollygail



Category: White Collar
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-02-10 11:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18659854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollygail/pseuds/Mollygail
Summary: As the title says, random bits of fluff. There is no plot or connection between chapters. This is just weird stuff that was floating around in my head





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having trouble finishing 'Kidnapped to a Reunion' so I took a little break from that to give you these bits of nonsense.

“I don’t want to be here. Please, take me home.” The pain he was in gave Neal’s voice a whiny quality.

“You’re staying until the doctor checks out that bump on your head. Quit whining and cowboy up.” The look of hurt and anger on Neal’s face caused Peter to feel a twinge of guilt. And, in truth, this was mostly Peter’s fault. Neal had told him the sting operation wouldn’t work.

The nurse finished taking his vital signs and entered all the information into the computer then left the exam room. Several minutes later the doctor entered and began his examination. 

“Can you tell me your name, sir?”

“Zack.” Peter’s face showed the doctor there might be a problem here. 

“Ok, Zack, can you tell me your full name?”

“My name is Isaac Yoder.” The bright lights were making his head feel like it would split open any second but even through the pain, he could see the concern on Peter’s face.

“Can you tell me where you’re from, Mr. Yoder?”

“I’m from Shipshewana, Indiana. I came to New York for Rumschpringe.” He saw a look of panic begin to spread across Peter’s face.

“How long have you been in New York, Mr. Yoder?”

“I’m not sure. I’m a bit ferhoodled.”

“I see. Well, I think we’ll have to run a few tests on you, Mr. Yoder.” The doctor started typing on his computer but was quickly interrupted by Neal.

“Doctor, wait. My name is Neal Caffrey. Today is Tuesday, April thirtieth, and Donald Trump is president. I just have a headache. Can I go now?” The look of panic on Peter’s face turned to annoyance and his hands rested on his hips as he silently stared at Neal. 

“Gotcha, Peter.” 

“Very funny, Neal.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Neal. Can I come in?”

“According to my release agreement I can’t stop you.”

Peter sighed and placed a large box on the kitchen table. “Neal, I know I screwed up and you have every right to never trust me again but I need your help.”

“Of course you need something from me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. What is it?”

Peter opened the box and Neal saw two kittens inside. One was mostly black with white spots and the other was mostly white with a few gray spots.

“I found these kittens and tried to take them to a shelter but they didn’t have room for them. They gave me bottles and formula but I can’t take them home. Elizabeth is allergic to cats. Can you take care of them?”

“They’ll need almost constant feeding. Work might interfere with that.”

“I’ll bring files over. You can work from home.”

Neal tried very hard to hang on to his anger but kittens were his kryptonite. “Do they have names?”

“Not yet. You can name them.” 

At that moment the mostly white one jumped on top of the black one and started kicking it with its’ hind feet. 

“Butch and Sundance.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose and he felt hope rise at the thought that Neal would name the kittens after the nicknames they had for each other. “Which one is Butch?”

“Butch is the one who just started kicking the crap out of Sundance for no good reason.” 

Peter realized as Neal picked up Sundance and snuggled him comfortingly that it would take a lot more time for Neal to forgive him. But, Peter was patient. He would give Neal the time he needed.


	3. Chapter 3

The large package arrived at Peter’s house on December seventh. It was eighteen months since Neal’s ‘death’ and six months after Peter had found out Neal was alive. It was also the anniversary of the first time Peter arrested Neal. El helped him remove the painting from the packaging and they both stared at it. 

The scene appeared to be a wild west saloon. Near the center of the tableau stood a man facing slightly away from the viewer. The man’s face was reflected in the mirror behind the bar. It was Neal, dressed in a fancy western suit with a frilly shirt. Behind Neal stood a Marshall; Peter, who was putting handcuffs on Neal. Next to Peter was Jones, his deputy. Peter moved closer to study the painting. At the end of the bar, a saloon girl stood talking to the barmaid. Peter’s eyes grew wide. The saloon girl was Elizabeth, dressed none too modestly in a dress that showed off her…umm….assets? Thankfully the barmaid, June, was dressed in an elegant, modest dress. And, there to the right of the picture, peeking out from behind a pillar, was Mozzie. At a table in the corner, Hughes was dealing a hand of poker while the saloon-girl, Diana, placed a glass of whiskey on the table. Through the window, near the right edge of the painting, dark clouds hovered.


	4. Chapter 4

Mozzie sensed that someone had been in his safe house. He stood by the door nervously searching for signs of who the intruder may have been. There was an envelope on the table addressed to him in Neal’s familiar handwriting. But that couldn’t be; Neal was dead. Cautiously Mozzie crossed the room and opened the envelope. 

The message was brief. “Mozzie, thanks for being a true friend. I’m sorry I had to con you but it’s time for you to know the truth. I’m not dead. Come to Paris and I’ll explain everything. Please forgive me. P.S. There’s a gift for you in the bedroom. Xoxo"

Mozzie slowly walked into the bedroom and his attention was immediately drawn to the painting on the wall over the dresser. It was a portrait of a little boy about five years old. He had light brown hair and was wearing glasses. The boy was sitting in a large wingback chair and appeared to be reading a book to his teddy bear. The bear was a scruffy looking brown bear with a button sewn on in place of one eye. 

A tear slid down Mozzie’s cheek. Neal was alive.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal recites Shakespeare.

Peter looked at the clock as Neal entered the conference room. Neal knew he was on thin ice with Peter and he’d made sure he was on time. To be late would bring on a lecture in front of an audience of agents. Being early would bring on questions about his activities the previous evening. Neal took his usual seat near the window and tried to blend in with the furniture. 

Peter opened a file and began the morning briefing. “Ok, we have a new case. The stage manager of the Stewart Shakespeare Company has tipped us off to some unusual activity in their financial department. Jones has completed the preliminary investigation and has made a recommendation that we send someone undercover to get more evidence. Does anyone here have any theater experience? Maybe as a stagehand or some acting in college?”

The other agents looked at each other and then back at Peter. They all shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders. Neal was quiet. 

Jones reluctantly spoke up. “I guess I could do some research and fake being a stagehand or something. I could say I’m going through a mid-life crisis and I’m wanting a career change. But, these people take this stuff pretty seriously. It would be better if we could find someone with experience.”

Peter was just about to speak when Neal stood up. He opened his mouth to tell Neal to sit down but there was something in Neal’s manner that stopped him. He watched as Neal walked over to the corner of the room and looked out of the window. 

Neal’s gaze was focused on the gray, rain-drenched New York skyline and yet his eyes seemed to be unfocused as he turned his thoughts inward. He held his head at an angle and quietly started to speak.

_“To be, or not to be, that is the question:_  
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer  
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,  
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles  
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more;” 

Peter’s eyebrows raised as Neal spoke. No one made a sound. Sadness and inner conflict seemed to pour out of Neal as he continued. 

_“and by a sleep to say we end_  
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks  
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation  
Devoutly to be wish’d.” 

Outside there was a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder. The rain started falling harder and Neal continued his recitation as though he were talking to himself. 

_“To die, to sleep;_  
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:  
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,  
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,  
Must give us pause—there's the respect  
That makes calamity of so long life.” 

Peter watched and listened as Neal finished the soliloquy. It was obvious to everyone that Neal was more than capable of taking on this undercover assignment. His acting skills were good enough to make Peter think about the conflict he and Neal had been going through recently. It was time for him to have a discussion with Neal. Good friends shouldn’t let silly disagreements keep them apart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Peter are stuck in an elevator. No dramatics; just fluff.

“Well, Peter, what did they say?” In the dim emergency lighting, Neal could see the look of annoyance on Peter’s face. 

“They said there’s a fairly large power outage due to the storm. There are people in several buildings who are stuck in elevators just like us. Two healthy male adults are a lower priority than pregnant women and the elderly. We’ll be here a while.”

Neal leaned against the wall of the elevator car and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

“Hey, you’re going to get your fancy suit dirty.”

“If we’re going to be here a while I’m going to be comfortable.”

“Right.” Peter sat down on the floor opposite Neal and leaned against the wall. “Are you okay? You don’t have claustrophobia do you?”

“I’m fine. I’d have had a tough time in prison if I had claustrophobia.”

“Hmm. So does that mean that you didn’t have a tough time in prison?”

Neal just stared at Peter; not giving him an answer. Finally, after a long silence, Neal replied. “I don’t want to talk about prison, Peter.”

“You brought it up.” Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. We’ll talk about something else. Let’s see……..” Peter was quiet for a moment and Neal waited to see what topic he might come up with. “You don’t like to talk about sports and I don’t like to talk about art……Tell me about your most embarrassing moment.”

“No. Tell me your most embarrassing moment.”

“No. Hmm. Have you ever had to be taken to the emergency room for anything?”

“That would be the same story as my most embarrassing moment. I’m not telling you about that.”

“Does it involve anything illegal?”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

Neal sighed. It was an embarrassing story but, it would be a long wait in this elevator if they didn’t have an interesting conversation. 

“Fine. Can I just say it involved a sunny afternoon at a nudist beach in the south of France?”

“No, I’m going to need more information than that. That doesn’t sound like it would be embarrassing for you. And where does the emergency room part come in? You said this involved going to the ER.”

“Sunny afternoon. Naked. You like puzzles. Work it out.”

Peter thought for a moment. “Sunburn? It would take a pretty serious sunburn to make you go to the emergency room.”

“Hmm. Nudist beach, remember? I even burned the tool shed.”

“The tool shed? OH! Ouch.” 

“You know I’ll make your life miserable if you ever tell anyone about that, right?” The dim emergency lighting wasn’t dim enough to hide the smirk on Peter’s face. 

“What about you, Peter? What is your most embarrassing moment?”

“I accidentally used the ladies restroom once.”

“That’s it? That doesn’t sound all that bad.”

“We were on a case in a high-class art museum. I was a probie trying to impress my supervising agent with my awesome investigative skills. He watched me go into the ladies’ room and was waiting for me when I came out.”

“I guess that would be bad. Was it Kramer?”

“Yep.”

“He’s a slimy dirtbag.” Neal had never been able to understand why Peter respected Kramer so much.

“Neal, he used to be a good agent. He’s become jaded over the years.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. And if you ever tell anyone that story I’ll make your life miserable.”

Neal felt the weight of the tracking anklet and kept his thoughts to himself. “Maybe we should change the subject. What else can we talk about.” 

“Michigan.” 

“What?” 

“When were you in Michigan?”

“Why do you think I’ve been to Michigan.” Neal was confused by the question. He hadn’t committed any crimes in Michigan and he would have thought it was impossible for Peter to know he’d ever been there.

“Remember that case we had with the Greek antiquities? You were undercover and the cops tried to arrest you?”

“Yeah.” Neal was even more confused.

“The cop called them antiques. You informed him that antiques are what you buy when you pull off the highway in Michigan.”

Neal smiled and shook his head. “You waited all this time to ask me about it. You have more patience than I imagined.”

“Are you deflecting? Should I start looking into Michigan art heists from the years just before you forged the bonds.?”

“I wasn’t deflecting and you’d be wasting your time trying to tie me to any crimes in Michigan. I was there the summer after I dropped out of school. I didn’t break any laws there.”

“None?”

“Well, I may have exceeded the speed limit a time or two but I was never caught.”

“What did you do there?”

“I worked.”

“You worked. Where? Doing what?” Peter realized he had switched into interrogation mode and stopped himself. “Sorry, this is supposed to be a conversation. I got a bit carried away. You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

“You have to promise you won’t tell this story to anyone.”

“Okay, as long as it doesn’t involve anything illegal I’ll keep it to myself.”

“I had a job on Mackinac Island. Have you ever been there?”

“No, I haven’t. Why can’t I tell anyone about that? It doesn’t sound bad.”

“There are no cars allowed on the island. There are a lot of horse-drawn carriages for the tourists. A lot of horses means a lot of manure. I spent that summer shoveling horse crap.”

Peter actually looked impressed. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of Neal. It was an honest job.”

“Yeah, I guess. I only worked there until the end of the tourist season. Then I moved on.”

“Where did you go next.”

Neal gave Peter one of his brightest smiles. “I can’t recall where I went next.”

Before Peter could begin to question him further on that subject the elevator came to life. Neal stood up and brushed the dirt off of his suit. Peter looked disappointed as he stood up. 

“I promise to tell you more the next time we’re stuck in an elevator, Peter.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Peter brushed off his clothes and wondered if he could bribe the maintenance crew at the bureau to shut down the elevator at an opportune moment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-finale. Mozzie visits Peter and El. More fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is now a separate story posted as Never End A Story Until Everyone Is Happy. I have added another chapter to it for J.

Peter smiled as he watched El putting little Neal in his highchair. It was Friday evening and they would have the whole weekend together. These days he very seldom worked late or brought files home with him. It had taken years but, he had finally learned what was most important in life. When El had seen how serious he was about cutting back at work she had done the same. She delegated more and worked from home most days. There was no doubt about it; Peter Burke was a lucky man. 

They had just started to eat their dinner when they were interrupted by a knock at the back door. Peter sighed and got up to see who was there.

“Suit, Mrs. Suit. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. Dinner smells delicious.” Mozzie walked past Peter and into the kitchen. 

El stood up and greeted Mozzie with a smile. “Mozzie, it’s so good to see you. It’s been ages. Would you like to join us for dinner? I made plenty.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Suit. I’d be delighted to join you.” Mozzie took a seat while El turned to get a plate out of the cupboard. Peter was still standing by the door with a stunned look on his face.  
“Suit, are you going to close the door?”

Peter shoved the door closed and stood with his hands on his hips. “Mozzie, what are you doing here? We haven’t seen you in nearly a year. We thought you’d be in Paris or something.”

“I may have visited Paris for a brief time.” Mozzie paused while El poured him a glass of wine. “Thank you, Mrs. Suit.”

Peter watched Mozzie carefully as they ate and thought he looked nervous. More nervous than usual. “So, Moz, it’s nice to see you again. Is there a specific reason for your visit or were you just in the neighborhood?”

“Oh, you know. I thought I stop and see how you were doing. Pleasant company. A little conversation.” Mozzie hesitated a moment and took another sip of wine. “I have a hypothetical question for you, Suit. Suppose there was a guy who people thought was dead…”

Peter held up his hand. “Cut the crap, Mozzie. We know Neal faked his death.” Peter looked across the table at Mozzie. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me when I thought he was dead? Do you know how I dealt with the grief?”

Mozzie slowly shook his head. “I figured it was probably the same as me. The usual seven stages of grief. I know he meant a lot to you.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, he meant a lot to me. We were friends but, we went through some rough times. When I thought he died I felt like it was my fault. He was so desperate for his freedom that he risked everything to help the FBI catch the Pink Panthers. I agreed to it but I failed to protect him. He was my responsibility and I failed him.” Tears came to Peter’s eyes as he remembered those awful days. “The only way I felt I could deal with the guilt was to make sure he got his final wish. I filed all the paperwork and fought with my bosses to make sure that Neal officially died a free man. And then, after a year, I found out he was alive.” Peter laughed weakly. “Are there stages of finding out the truth? I felt happiness quickly followed by anger that he lied to me. I felt relief that I was not responsible for his death. Finally, I figured out why he did it; to protect us. Then I felt gratitude. Now all I want is for Neal to be happy. Is he happy, Mozzie?”

“He is happy. But if you don’t have any plans for the weekend there is a way to make him happier.” Mozzie was deeply touched by Peter’s speech and hoped he wasn’t wrong to trust him.

Elizabeth smiled with excitement. “Do we need to fly to Paris? I can be ready in an hour.”

Mozzie shook his head and smiled at Elizabeth’s willingness to leave at a moment’s notice. “No, you just need to drive to upstate New York. Make sure to pack a nice suit for the Suit. Something suitable for the best man to wear.”

Elizabeth squealed in excitement while Peter just leaned back in his chair and grinned. El shoved Little Neal’s spoon into Mozzie’s hand and jumped up from her chair. 

“Finish feeding Neal while I go pack.” She stopped suddenly and turned around. “How far upstate? How long will it take to get there? What time is the wedding?”

“It’s about a six-hour drive and the wedding is at three o’clock tomorrow. But don’t worry. It’s a private ceremony and they won’t start without me. You don’t need to leave until the morning.”

“I need to decide what to wear and what to pack for Peter. Have you made reservations for us?”

“It’s all taken care of. Go pack and I’ll feed Neal while Peter and I talk.” 

“You just called me ‘Peter’”. 

Mozzie shrugged. “It felt like a ‘Peter’ moment. Don’t get used to it.”

Peter nodded and leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. “So, Neal is getting married.”

“Technically no. Noah Connelly is getting married.”

“Noah, huh? Okay, tell me about the bride. Please tell me she’s nothing like Kate.”

“Definitely not like Kate. Emily is a nurse. She’s smart and funny. I wouldn’t say she’s beautiful but she’s cute. I approve of her. She really loves him.” Mozzie stopped talking while he spooned some green disgusting goo into Neal’s mouth. “So, you’re not going to arrest him?”

“Is he involved in any illegal activities? Because if he is then I won’t go see him.”

Mozzie nearly snorted in disgust. “He’s practically a boy-scout these days. He paints and he’s taken up photography. A few months ago he bought a coffee shop and he displays his paintings there. He’s sold several to the tourists. You’d be proud of him.”

“You know, Mozzie, it sounds like you’re proud of him too.”

Mozzie nodded. “He’s alive, Peter. I thought he was dead for a year and life was dull without him. Now I have him back and I’m not going to make the same mistakes I made before. He’s happy and that’s all that matters.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal contemplates the way little things have impacted his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This weirdness popped into my head while I was working today.

“Can I get you anything else before I leave, Neal?” Peter looked around trying to think of anything Neal might need through the night. “Can you reach your phone ok?”

“I’ll be fine, Peter. I can reach everything; the phone, the ice-water, the button to call the nurse. Quit fussing and go home to your wife.”

“Ok. Call if you need anything.” Peter hesitated a moment longer. “Neal…I’m sorry about this. It shouldn’t have happened.” 

“Peter, it wasn’t your fault. Stuff happens. I’m fine. Go home.”

Peter nodded and patted Neal’s uninjured shoulder before turning to leave. “I’ll be back in the morning.” 

Neal waved weakly and watched Peter walk away. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It should be easy to get to sleep considering he was still feeling the effects of the anesthetic and the recent dose of morphine. He sighed and let his mind wander over the weird turns his life had taken over the years. Little, insignificant events had changed the course of his life and had brought him to his present situation. He contemplated the unanswerable ‘what-ifs’ of life. 

What if he hadn’t walked into the pool hall when he was nine and discovered his natural talent for pool and gambling? He wouldn’t have met Jerry the forger, who taught him the basics of making fake IDs. 

What if Ellen hadn’t told him on his eighteenth birthday that his dad was a murderer? He might have become a cop. 

What if he hadn’t met Mozzie when he first arrived in New York? There were too many possibilities to even begin to answer that one. 

If he hadn’t met Kate, there might not have been a prison sentence. Without prison, he wouldn’t have had a chance to know and work with Peter. If he hadn’t worked with Peter he wouldn’t have been undercover this morning. 

If he had said the take-down phrase thirty-seconds earlier he wouldn’t have been shot. 

With all the little things that could have caused a different outcome to his life one stood out more than all the rest.

Sarah. If he and Sarah hadn’t gotten back together briefly before she moved to London they wouldn’t have been together on his birthday. She wouldn’t have given him the discreet body armor that he had worn under his suit today. It hadn't stopped the bullet that hit his shoulder but, without the armor, the two bullets that hit him in the chest would have killed him instead of just breaking two ribs. 

He picked up his phone and checked the time. It would be six o’clock in the morning in London. He dialed Sarah’s number. 

“Hello.”

“Hi, Sarah. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Neal? No, I was already awake. Are you okay? You sound a little weird.”

“I’ll be fine. I was just laying here thinking.”

“Thinking what, Neal?”

“I was thinking that I didn’t thank you nearly enough for the wonderful birthday present you gave me before you left. It is, without a doubt, the best present I ever received.”

“Oh, Neal. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m alive. I’ll heal, thanks to you. I love you, Sarah.”

“I love you too, Neal. Tell me all about what happened.”

“When I was nine I met a guy at the pool hall who taught me to make fake IDs…”


End file.
